Love of the Senses
by Morganeth Taren'drel
Summary: 5 drabbles each covering one of the times Methos has fallen in love. I took a slightly different approach to it, than I'd originally intended.
1. Sight

**Love of the Senses**

**AN**: A prompt from a friend led me to write a series of drabbles for Methos from Highlander. This was 5 times Methos fell in love, I was suddenly hit with an idea for how to approach the idea that wasn't listing 5 women he had come to marry…out of the what? 74? Something like that. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Highlander

**Sight**

Methos, rose up yet again, his body rebuilding itself from what little remains it had left. The trek had been harsh, to say the least, but the fall had been harder. Rubbing a hand through his blood clotted hair Methos blinked his blurry eyes and looked back towards his destination, relieved he hadn't fallen too far. It had been enough to kill, but he would still make it in time.

Forcing himself to his feet, Methos pressed on, his limbs becoming more steady and stronger with each passing minute as his Quickening continued to repair the lesser damages caused by his fall. Calloused hands searched out more secure holds as he booted feet propelled him up the slop with renewed vigor. He wasn't about to miss this spectacle, men had whispered of it from the moment Methos had arrived in the small village, and his curiosity grew until he could stand it no longer.

Careful now of the section of crumbling stone Methose hauled himself past it, and pressed on finally reaching the summit. Pulling himself up over the edge, he was shocked to find what appeared to be a small lake the waters smooth undisturbed by animal or wind.

He sat in a meditative state, the area around him requiring such calm, and as evening faded the lights began to shimmer across the waters and through the skies, waves of blues and purples. It captured Methos attention his mouth falling open in absolute awe; never before had he witnessed such a sight.

Thanks for Reading

Morganeth Taren'drel


	2. Sound

**Love of the Senses**

**AN**: The second instalment, enjoy

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Highlander

**Sound**

Trailing his way through the dusty streets of yet another small town, nameless to Methos it held none of the charm of the larger cities he'd called home over the last few years. The buildings were rudimentary at best, for farmers and craftsmen, the town lords lived outside on their estates but even those 'manors' weren't much to look upon.

Methos scuffed his foot through the parched earth, cursing in a tongue unknown to the villagers around him. Driven from his home, and only for the want of a little peace, why fight if you didn't have too? Why did these bloody Immortals feel the need to...

His dark train of thought was abruptly cut off by the enchanting sound of a girl's voice singing not far off. Entranced by the melodic quality Methos found himself wandering down a narrow alley, searching out its source.

What he found was a young girl, on the edge of the village was three sheep in her care grazing on the lush grass growing in the shadows of old poplar trees. She sat beneath one of these trees her simple dress spread around her, as she continued to sing to her animals, a soothing song, a romantic song, the likes of which Methos had never heard before.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	3. Scent

**Love of the Senses**

**AN**: Please enjoy

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Highlander

**Scent**

It was purely intoxicating; there was no other way to describe it. The incense rose up from countless burners around the lavishly decorated chamber making the room almost appear hazy. Methos breathed deeply of the scent unable to take in enough, as he leaned back in the throne like chair he'd been offered and accepted the drink placed in his hand.

Drawing another deep breath, Methos nodded in satisfaction, he could be come accustomed to this. To raid for a time, was thrilling, satisfying, and above all bloody, it brought them great power.

But this, this cleansed him; Methos tipped his head back taking another deep long breath his eyes closing in sheer pleasure. Who knew beneath the surface of Death also rode this creature of taste? Methos was as shocked as anyone.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	4. Taste

**Love of the Senses**

**AN**: I hope you enjoy

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Highlander

**Taste**

Methos drank deeply, pulling more, wanting to take everything in. But all at once it was taken from him.

"Please," she whispered softly, urgently.

He could see the smile playing on her full lips as her bright eyes darted around the shadowed room.

Methos moved in to kiss her again, unable to resist the expression on her face, nor the taste of her on his lips.

She blocked him though, a hand over his mouth her own head ducking, "They could be back any minute!" she worried.

"Let them," Methos drawled undeterred, "I'll not have them take you from me." He managed to find a spot on her neck, it wasn't perfect, but it would do, he could feel the goose flesh it caused to race across her skin.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	5. Touch

**Love of the Senses**

**AN**: So this is the last one, I hope you enjoyed the others. These were among the first drabbles I ever did, I'm not sure how many of them are actually under the 100 word limit. But they're close enough if you ask me.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Highlander

**Touch**

It stood before him proudly, a shining example of the peek of craftsmanship. Never before had Methos wielded a blade such as this. His hands twitched to touch it, to reach out and tear it from the earth and test its weight, its feel, to see what sort of a soul this weapon would possess.

But he forced himself to wait, stepping towards the sword almost reverently pacing around it examining every detail. It was long double edged, and by the looks of it heavy, exactly what he wanted in a sword.

Unable to stand it any longer Methos reached for the hilt his fingers slowly closing around the carefully wrapped leather. A breath escaped him, slow and sure. Drawing the sword from the ground Methos raised it up before his face, eying his reflection in the blade.

Thanks for Reading

Morganeth Taren'drel


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